Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (36 page)

The few people in the little cafe stood up, cowering against the giant windows, watching him with as much awe as if watching a tornado. Slowly, the manager edged his way toward the phone, but Dr. Wilder saw him, grabbed it and yanked it out of the wall. He knew it wouldn’t solve the problem, but might delay the inevitable.

Just then Kirk knocked into the waiter with the tray of food, and everyone watched as four Southern Style Breakfasts went flying through the air.

Suddenly from one corner of the little cafe a man whisked out a camera, and a woman began writing something on a napkin. The two whispered to each other as they both headed for the entrance in the midst of a series of flashes.

Kirk turned at the flash and saw the camera. He immediately stalked toward the photographer with blood in his eyes. The man managed to get one more picture with Kirk coming toward him before the couple quickly turned and ran out the door.

Chyna started crying. "My God, what's happening to him? He’s like an animal. I've got to go to him."

Before Dr. Wilder could get to her, she grabbed at Kirk. He spun around blindly and backhanded her, sending her reeling before she fell to the floor. When he saw what had happened, he shouted, “Oh, God! What have I done?”

By that time a police cruiser with a screeching siren was there, but the commotion was over. They listened to several of the waiters relate what they saw, looked at the mess the place was in, and was about to cuff Kirk when the café owner decided to drop the charges.

“Are you sure?” the first officer said. “Looks like you’ve got a lot of damage here.”

“I was assured that it’ll all be taken care of, and that’s all I want.”

“What about the lady there?”

Dr. Wilder stepped in, and gave the man his card. “I’m a doctor—”

“A plastic surgeon?” the officer said as he read the card. “Looks to me like she needs a real doctor.”

“I beg your pardon, I am a real doctor.”

The officer chuckled. “Yeah, sure, and the Dallas Cowboys all wear tutu’s.” He turned to his partner and indicated with his head toward the front door. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * * *

When Chyna woke up, she had a damp cloth on her head, and Kirk was leaning over her with his face buried in his hands. When she lightly touched him, he looked up. "Oh God, Chyna I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hit you." Taking her in his arms, his shoulders shook with sobs.

The doctor walked up and put his hand on Kirk's back. "She'll be okay, Kirk. You're a perfect match now. Her bruises match yours."

"That's not funny, doctor."

"No, I guess not." Looking around at the stalking three piece suit, he said, "I think the management would like us to leave."

Kirk lifted his tear-stained face and looked at Chyna. "Are you up to walking?"

"I think so."

With the exception of the doctor, they all slowly made their way toward the car.

The doctor stepped over to the cash register, digging in his wallet for his American Express card. "When I told them I was taking them out to breakfast, I had eggs and bacon in mind. Not for one minute did I expect broken glasses, dishes, and furniture to be added to the bill." He extended the card to the manager with a teasing smile. "I'll bet American Express is going to be scratching their heads over this one, wouldn't you say?" He watched as the damage was assessed and added to his bill. He then turned to leave, but about halfway to the door he turned back, and said with a thoughtful look. "You know, that hospital owes me a lot." Looking around at the damage, he added, "Especially the cafeteria." He looked back up at the manager and winked. "Best food in town."

The next morning one whole section of the newspaper was dedicated to pictures of Kirk throwing chairs, turning over tables, and breaking furniture. These pictures, along with lengthy columns, were plastered all across newspapers from Maine to California. Magazines everywhere had Chyna's picture on the front along with a picture of a book with burning pages to indicate how hot her latest novel was. Up in one corner a small, unassuming picture of the outside of the café, sitting all alone and small against the ocean, was pinpointed as the place where it all happened. The name on the front of the cafe appeared prominently in the picture.

Newspaper columns—

It seems the little coastal town of Mystic Islands, New Jersey

can't get a break. A few weeks back, Hurricane Carla hit the

sleepy little village causing massive destruction far and wide.

Now it seems this little dot on the map has been hit again…

Radio announcers—

At precisely 7:38 on Thursday morning Chyna Marsh and the

hero of her new novel were seen in Mystic Islands, New Jersey

at the High Coast Café having anything but a quiet meal. It

seems the husky Mystery Man lost his temper and…

TV News Anchors—

Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that erotica writer, Chyna Marsh,

has a tornado by the tail, and his name is Kirk Grayson…

In view of the publicity, Luster Publishing wasted no time in getting Chyna’s book published, and as soon as it was on the shelves, the whole world began grabbing and clawing for it. It was going so fast, the book stores couldn't keep copies on the shelves. When it began receiving reviews, words like
Bestseller, Hottest Novel of the Century
, was on everyone's lips.

George Schaeffer walked in Serena Rush's office and saw her on the phone, excitedly scribbling something down on a pad. In spite of wanting to jump up and down with glee, Serena was struggling to maintain some kind of professional demeanor. She finally hung up, looked up at George, and yelled as loud as she could, "Yeeeee Haaaaa!"

George's eyes widened when he looked at her. "Serena, my God, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

Serena looked at him, waved the pad she had been writing on in his face, and said. "There's nothing wrong with me that five million dollars won't fix."

A smile lit up George's face as he sat down. “What gives? Did a rich uncle die or something?"

Serena spoke softly, leaned down, and looked right in George's eyes. "Better than that, kiddo. Do you realize I've been on the phone all morning talking with every movie studio on the coast? I've had everyone but the devil himself calling and wanting to buy the movie rights to Chyna Marsh's new book." She looked at him triumphantly. "It's going to the screen Schaeffer, it's going to be a friggin' movie!"

"Hey, that's great."

Serena smiled as if she had a secret. "But that's only the tip of the iceberg, dear boy."

George leaned toward her. "Come on, spill it Rush."

"No, no. Not now. But rest assured that I have a plan that’ll blow this thing sky high, and all I need is the author’s permission. First, whoever we sell it to, will have to take advantage of the interest of the public and get this movie done as quickly as possible. And, George, if it’s as big as I think it will be…” She hesitated, looking down at her colleague with a gleam in her eyes. "George, do you realize that if this man has any looks at all he'll be idolized? Women all over the world will fall at his feet."

"Oh, come on, Serena. Look who they have to compare him with. What about Mel Gibson or Tom Cruise?"

"What about them? My God, George when this man…” She quickly caught herself. “Oh, no. I’m not giving away any secrets now. But when this thing goes down, who in hell will care anything about either of them? Who will even remember their names?" She leaned down close to him, a smirk tugging on her lips. "Watch real close, Georgie boy, while Gibson and Cruise fade into the background.”

George was silent, apparently unmoved.

Serena frowned at him. “Do you have any idea what I'm saying? By the time this is over he'll be so big he could start his own friggin' religion."

George snickered.

"Monarch Studio says if it goes as well as they think, it'll be the biggest thing since
Gone With the Wind
."

"And you're giving it away for a paltry five mil? Good grief, Serena, they'll make at least fifty mil, maybe a hundred."

Serena shrugged. "We'll negotiate. Five's just the bottom line offer. They start low, I start high. You know how it works. We meet somewhere in the middle." She looked at him with her eyes narrowed. "But you can be sure this little gal is gonna get as much as she can for this hot little item. If one studio won't take our terms, another one will. Besides, there's always cable."

"Cable? Please! You won't get that kind of money from cable." George looked at her with a worried frown. "You need to be careful, Serena."

Serena moved around in front of her desk, leaned back, and folded her arms across her chest. "George, how many movie deals have I worked?"

"I don't know. I know you've handled all we've had."

"And haven't I always turned the screws in those bastards heads until the blood flowed?"

"Yeah, all right."

"And not one of them was near as hot as this one, right?"

"Okay, but I always get nervous when we're dealing with that much money."

She smiled at him as if she were looking at a weakling. "Well, I guess that's why you're there and I'm here."

Anger stabbed him and he got up abruptly to leave. Turning around at the door, he yelled, "Bitch!"

“Bastard!” she yelled back.

"Bitch!"

"Bastard!"

This wasn't anything unusual, it was the way they ended all their conversations. The people in the office were so used to it, they didn't even look up.

* * * *

The next few months brought a flurry of trips to the coast for contract negotiations and interviews on TV and Radio promoting Chyna’s new book. She had turned into the hottest romance writer on the scene today, and Kirk had turned into Hollywood’s newest heartthrob. She couldn't go anywhere without a crowd following her and a microphone being pushed in her face.

“Ms. Marsh, when is your next book coming out?"

"Please, I don’t have time."

“Are there any plans to reveal your Mystery Man to the public?”

"No comment."

“Ms. Marsh, how did you find him? Was there an instant attraction?”

She impatiently tried to push the microphone away, when she heard the question she had been waiting for.

“Ms. Marsh, what do you like best about your Mystery Man?”

Chyna stopped abruptly, looked at the reporter and spoke as if she was picturing him in her mind. "His eyes, his mouth—" Then she looked at the woman and winked. "—and everything else."

Kirk turned red in the face while looking down at the TV in their bedroom, "My God, Chyna, why in hell did you say that?"

She came out of the bedroom. "Because it's the truth."

"Did you have to tell the world?"

"Kirk, you always have to leave them with a bang. You know, wanting more? The secret is to sensationalize."

"Why?"

"Because. They don't want to hear the same old pat answers all the time. Give them something to put down on those pads that'll burn their itchy little fingers." She looked over at him. "It's the only way to stay on top."

"But you said it would die down."

"It will, but until it does we might as well get as much out of this Mystery Man deal as possible. You have to remember, I write romance novels for a living. I have to feed 'em sex morning, noon, and night."

He looked at her with surprise on his face.

"Sex sells, Kirk. That's why this Mystery Man theme is so good. But when it's over, it's gone, and they'll want something else." She looked at him with a sly look. "And babe, they know they can get it from me."

"You sound so damned cold, Chyna. Almost callous. What's gotten into you?"

She sat down beside him. "I'm sorry, Kirk. I don't mean to be. It's just that I've been in this business a few years now, and I know the ropes. All I have to do is put myself in their place. If I were a reporter, I'd be looking for the headliners…the scoop…the sensation. Any sizzling topic that would get my readers' attention. I know how they think, and what I don't know, I can imagine. That's all."

Kirk pulled her down on the bed, leaned over on top of her and asked suggestively. "All right, Ms. Marsh. If you're so good at imagining things, what am I thinking?"

She pulled his perfect face down to hers, kissed his sensuous lips, then whispered something in his ear.

He lifted his head, looked at her with mock amazement and whispered seductively, "Mmm, you are good!

* * * *

Downstairs Elaine was busy in the kitchen, and decided to make some sandwiches for lunch. She went to the refrigerator to get the lunchmeat, but it wasn't there. She looked around puzzled, muttering to herself. "I thought I got some lunchmeat at the market yesterday. Where did it all go?"